


nodus tollens

by deanssammy (babylxxrry)



Series: the dictionary of obscure sorrows [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Stanford Era, sam/jess is mentioned but not massive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 13:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14262177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/deanssammy
Summary: nodus tollens: n. the realization that the plot of your life doesn’t make sense to you anymore—that although you thought you were following the arc of the story, you keep finding yourself immersed in passages you don’t understand, that don’t even seem to belong in the same genre—which requires you to go back and reread the chapters you had originally skimmed to get to the good parts, only to learn that all along you were supposed to choose your own adventure.sam’s sitting in the library at stanford, studying for the last exam of the semester before break.





	nodus tollens

**Author's Note:**

> hey i'm back  
> finally got a chance to write. i missed it.  
> s/o to e for putting up with my shit. you're a good kid and i appreciate.

Sam’s sitting in the library at Stanford, studying for the last exam of the semester before break when he realizes he doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life. 

_You’re studying. At Stanford, an Ivy equivalent. On a full ride scholarship. What else do you want?_

Sam’s sitting in the library at Stanford, studying for the last exam of the semester before break when he realizes he doesn’t belong here.

_You have friends. You have Jess. You have classes that you love, a strong degree that you’re working towards. An apartment that’s small and kind of shitty, but it’s home. What else could you want?_

Sam’s sitting in the library at Stanford, studying for the last exam of the semester before break when he realizes he doesn’t have a clue why he’s here.

_You’re here because you’re studying for your exam, dumbfuck._

No, not the library. Here. At university.

_You’re here because you want to get an education. You want out of the hunting life. You want a degree and a steady job and a girlfriend and roots somewhere that you’ve never had. You’re here because this is where you’re meant to be. This is where you should be. What else could you possibly ever want?_

Sam’s sitting in the library at Stanford, studying for the last exam of the semester before break when he realizes everything he thought was real is naught but an illusion, and suddenly, he’s floating.

Suddenly, he’s floating, drifting aimlessly on a raft of twigs in the middle of a typhoon at sea. Suddenly, he’s standing on a crumbling platform of lies, what he thought was his whole world threatening to deposit him into a bottomless abyss of roaring darkness.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life. He doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t have a clue why he’s here.

Does he even know who he is?

Sam Winchester, student at Stanford University.

Sam Winchester, boyfriend of Jessica Moore.

Sam Winchester, law major.

Sam Winchester, son of John Winchester and Mary Winchester.

Sam Winchester, brother of Dean Winchester.

Sam Winchester, a little boy sitting in the back of a sleek black car, watching the sky race by.

Sam Winchester, a little boy being taught how to point and shoot a gun.

Sam Winchester, a little boy huddled, sobbing, in his brother’s arms after a nightmare. Again.

Sam Winchester, smartest of the family.

Sam Winchester, walking lore and trivia archive at eighteen.

Sam Winchester, hunter.

Sam Winchester, Hunter.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing here. He doesn’t know why he’s so insistent on staying here, on a raft of carefully-woven half-truths when he _knows_ he doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t know where he belongs, but wherever it is, it’s not here.

He doesn’t belong here, with the rich kids of California, the future CEOs and astronauts and physicists and world leaders. He doesn’t belong here, not even with the darker side of the college, the young alcoholics and addicts and borderline-flunking students, despite having grown up in and around that life.

He doesn’t know why he’s here.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He needs someone, anyone, to reach down into the raging waters, to haul him up and grab him hard by the shoulders and shake him and tell him what he’s doing, what he needs to do to get his life back on track.

_Your life is on track, idiot, you just don’t know a good thing when you see it._

Sam tamps down the insistent voice in his head, sounding suspiciously like his own. He knows something’s wrong here. He doesn’t belong here, where he can be normal and have roots and friends and a loving girlfriend and eventually a family with 2.5 kids and a dog.

He doesn’t belong to that life.

He doesn’t know where he belongs or why he even tried to say this was where he was supposed to end up. He doesn’t know where or who or why but he knows this doesn’t fit. This isn’t him.

And it fucking hurts. It fucking hurts because he’s built himself something here. He’s got Jess, he’s got his friends, he’s got his work and his degree and- and yet, he’s missing something. He thought he had it all. And now he hasn’t got any of it.

“Hey, Sam.”

Sam startles, focuses on the face across from him.

Jess.

“Hey, Jess,” he mumbles, two moments too late.

 _You don’t belong here_. The voice has switched its tune and Sam wants to snort.

“You okay, babe?” Jess is merely concerned, like any good girlfriend would be, but Sam finds himself annoyed, of all things.

“Fine. Don’t you have to get to class?” Sam snaps a bit harsher than he’d intended, and he sees Jess flinch, eyebrow quirking up.

“I’ll take that as a no. Also, it’s Monday, Sam, you know I get out by noon.”

“Right,” Sam says. Because this is his life.

_This isn’t your life._

“Are you stressing about the exam on Wednesday?”

“Sure.” It’s easier than trying to explain that he’s in the middle of a crisis about what the fuck he’s doing with his life.

“Don’t. You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks.”

Jess leaves him with a kiss to the forehead, saying something about meeting up with friends for coffee and seeing him tonight at home.

Home, right.

_It’s not your home, Sam._

And somehow, Sam manages to resurface long enough to feel the sun on his face, a gleam of hope through the roiling clouds.

_This isn’t you, Sam Winchester. You know who you are. You just need to open your eyes._

Sam closes his eyes, reaches down into the furthest corners of his memory, toys with the knowledge hidden there.

 _Wendigos. Tormented Spirits. Demons. Shapeshifters_. _Salt and Burn. Exorcism. Sigils, symbols, spells, charms, curses, salt circles wards lore witchesvstoriesblackmagiccrossroadsdeals- green eyes and freckles and a gentle smile and gentler hands showing him how to fix salt lines and tracing over Latin, sounding out each word of an exorcism._

Sam’s eyes jolt open like he’s been shocked.

Sam Winchester is the brother of Dean Winchester.

Sam Winchester is a boy sitting in the passenger seat of a sleek black car, watching the sky race by.

Sam Winchester is a boy pointing and shooting sawed-off shotguns.

He doesn’t know that his brother is going to show up soon. He doesn’t know that everything he thought he had is going to be destroyed in seconds. Everything. His apartment, his girlfriend. Everything in his life. He doesn’t know that his world will turn upside down and back around completely different in a matter of moments.

But for now, Sam’s sitting in the library at Stanford, studying for the last exam of the semester before break.

 

-fin.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment or kudos if you really do love sam because that boy deserves the world and so much more.


End file.
